


All Time Low

by PhantomFox



Series: My (Only) Sin [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Alien Biology, Biting, Clitoral orgasms, Coitus Interruptus, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Doc Bashing, Dom/sub vibes, Explicit Consent, Extra Light Dom/Sub, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Force Bondage (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Interspecies Sex, Kissing, Nipple Play, One Shot, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Possession, Size Difference, Sleep Deprivation, That's Not How The Force Works, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Orgasms, Wall Sex, alien dick, mentions of - Freeform, minor power exchange vibes, no pregnancy scares here!, pure filth, smut smut smut, this is not how you therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomFox/pseuds/PhantomFox
Summary: She can’t remember how the encounters with the overseers began, could only remember sensations and fear and anger; but she knows for a fact that none of them waited for her to swallow and finally nod, was just as sure that they didn’t methodically work her nipple to full hardness before addressing her in a low, amused rumble; the grip holding her to the wall loosened until she was held by wrists alone, allowing her room to hesitantly press into the touch.“I’m surprised, Jedi,” he said softly, eyes glinting mischievously. “You haven’t tried to kick me yet, and,” he pinched the tender bit of flesh gently, causing another sound to leave her, her face heating further, “you seem to be enjoying this.”He moved to caress her other breast, just as slow and methodical; his voice was low, dropping as more quiet sounds left her. “Is that Jedi modesty I’ve heard so much about a falsehood?”There is a Disturbing Lack of Scourge/female!Hero of Tython smut on here. I'mma fix that a bit.
Relationships: Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Lord Scourge
Series: My (Only) Sin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090988
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	All Time Low

**Author's Note:**

> pureblood Sith biology headcannons came from the lovely, genius fluffynexu, found here and on the tumblrs
> 
> i had more words in mind. idk what happened to them. anyway! 
> 
> have some porn. 
> 
> unrelated to any of my other works, kind of just an excuse to thirst after that lorge tomato boi.

Her life is now split into Before and After.

‘Before,’ when she had all her memories, and her mind was her own, her body fully under her control, every action one that she chose. 

‘After’ is… After the emperor. After failure. After pain, scars she can’t remember getting, and attacks that sneak into her training when she doesn’t expect it; knives up her sleeves and tiny vials of poison hidden away in her clothing that she immediately gave to Kimble, in the hope that he was able to develop antidotes for them. 

‘After’ includes a red skinned Sith, one who is staring at her even now, watching with calculating eyes over clasped, gloved hands as she stumbles through what had been familiar velocities, angry because she had trained until her body knew the movements of every kata, could perform them in her sleep, and now there’s a stabbing thrust where there should have been a parry, or a binding turns into a feint, one hand reaching for the short, razor-sharp blades she had locked away in the cargo hold. 

Finally letting out a snarl when she falters yet again, Khrysa disengages her lightsaber, the beam cutting off with the same _snap-hiss_ she’s heard a thousand thousand times before--the sound still causes her to shudder, a flash of not-memory of falling to her knees, a different Sith smirking as he approached--

“What do you want,” she snapped, turning to glare at her shadow. “Didn’t see enough while I was the emperor’s plaything?”

Unlike her, Scourge is calm, unbothered by the wisps of shadow that cling to him, able to ignore the suffocating presence of the dark that causes her chest to tighten and her heart to race, even here in the familiar confines of the Defender. 

“What I want,” he answered, “is to make sure you are capable of defeating him. And so I will continue to oversee your training.”

“Oh, like you did before?” Acid soaks her words. “Will you train me the same as the overseers?”

 _Cold metal pressed to her front, a too-warm, too-heavy body pinning her--_ she swallows another snarl, hating that of the little she could remember, it was _that,_ of being made so helpless when she already had _nothing_ left--

Her hands are shaking, just a little, and Scourge thankfully doesn’t mention it. 

“They were punished for their transgressions,” he replied instead. “I made sure of it.”

Khrysa snorts at that--the not-memories of being held down, of her jaw forced open by cruel hands, proved that she had been… _transgressed against_ … multiple times--and re-ignites her 'saber, turning her back on the Sith and doing her best to ignore the way her skin crawled at having him out of sight. 

She's just stumbled a third time, the brilliant green blade almost cutting into the floor, when he opens his mouth. 

"You should rest."

"You should jump out an airlock," she shoots back, already shifting to the starting position, her grip white-knuckled on the hilt. 

There's a twinge of guilt at voicing the words, but she ignores it, shoving it away in the same manner she's been doing for all the other emotions she can't stand to face just now. 

Because the Sith is right. They haven't made it to Tython yet, having stopped in some backwater system with a single dinky orbital station so that Rusk and Teeseven could go over every bolt and wire on the ship, searching for anything that might have been planted during their captivity. In the days since escaping, Khrysa hasn't stopped moving long enough to rest properly; instead, she meditated, choked down the mud-thick kaff that Kimble and Rusk preferred, worked herself to exhaustion against Kira and her saber-staff, and helped tear apart console after console, all to avoid the darkness behind her eyelids and whatever lay in wait for her there. Dark circles were making themselves at home around dry, itchy eyes, she was losing track of conversations and time, and beginning to twitch at every sudden sound, but she still refused to sleep.

“The force will only sustain you for so long, Jedi.” 

When Khrysa turns to face him, more sharp words ready on her tongue, she almost falls over; he’s left the couch he's been sitting on for the last how-ever-long and is standing directly behind her, arms crossed over a massive chest. Swallowing against the sudden dryness in her mouth, she recovers, turns the stumble into a hurried step back as she glares up at him. "I'm fine."

One ridged brow rises. "The clumsiest acolyte on Korriban could have killed you ten times over just now. You need to sleep."

"No, I need to _train,"_ she replied, sarcasm thick in her voice as she put more distance between them. "You said so yourself, _my lord."_

"Unless you wish to swear yourself to me, do not use those words to address me." Despite the disapproving tone, red eyes are gleaming with something like hunger. "Or you might find yourself regretting them."

"Oh, really," she snarked, intensely aware of the holoterminal behind her, the shrinking space she has left to retreat in. "You didn't mind before, _my lord._ "

Even though she doesn't see Scourge move, her lightsaber snaps up between them, too late to keep her from getting slammed into the flat top of the holoterminal; green plasma glitters in the eyes staring down at her, the back of his pupils reflecting gold like a beast’s in the night. The hand pinning her to the terminal is flat against her breastplate, his other clutching her wrist, and she's reminded once more that Sith--pureblooded Sith, red skinned Sith--are descended from predators, that the human blood mixed in did nothing to lessen the strength in bodies bred for the high gravity of Korriban; her arms are shaking, trying to keep the blade of her lightsaber angled to cut, to slice and defend herself, while Scourge is holding her down as easily as a kitten.

"What did I just say, little Jedi?" 

A shudder tried to slide down her spine at the softly growled words, but she's not ready to give up, not yet; he's only holding one wrist, and she abruptly lets go with her other hand, reaching--clawing fingers brush the tendrils on his chin before an invisible grip slams it back down, the force coiled tight enough that she feels bones grind together even under the bracer, and then she's truly trapped, unable to break free, her legs spread wide and useless around Scourge's waist, the armor he wore pushing painfully against her. "Are you ready to listen to reason?"

Hissing, she squirmed, the force escaping her grasp--she wouldn't be taken advantage of again, wouldn't be helpless under an uncaring monster _again--_ "Let. Me. Go!"

 **"Khrysa.** **_Sleep_** **."**

Her name, coupled with a command echoing with power, shocks her enough to make her stop, causes her muscles to go slack as eyelids flutter closed, darkness rising in a relentless flood. The lightsaber is plucked from her loosening grip, the sound of the blade snapping off not enough to rouse her; it’s the movement between her legs as she lulls bonelessly that brings the panic full force, those not-memories sharp as knives as she’s dragged forward, towards the edge of the terminal--she’s back under the emperor’s spell, a slender overseer working to remove her clothing, degrading, humiliating words dripping from his lips as he prepares to ram into her--

“No… no!” It’s weak, a gasp instead of the shout she wanted it to be, but the Sith stops, pulls back. She continues to struggle against his order, curls onto the hard surface under her, fighting off the overwhelming tide that’s trying to drown her. “Don’t touch me!”

The darkness finally begins lifting as the force responds to her--the energy flowing under her skin was _wrong,_ drawn by fear and tasting of shadows and ash, but it still answered her call--purging the forced sleep from her mind, and leaving her shaking. 

“Well,” Scourge announced at last, and she shifted her arms--covering her head, as useless as that is against another force-user--to look at him. “It is promising that you can still fight after ninety hours without sleep, and better still that you utilized your emotions rather than stifling them.” 

Almost four days, huh? If she had gone longer without, she couldn’t remember it at the moment. Chest heaving, Khrysa glared through the tears gathered in her eyes. “Fuck you, and fuck your emotions,” she answered, voice not quite a rasp. “I’m a Jedi, not a Sith, and if you do that to me again, I’ll kill you.”

Scourge steps close, long enough to drop her weapon next to her; there’s still hunger in his gaze, his presence still wreathed in wisps of shadow. “Many have tried.” His words are smooth, clearly unfazed by her warning. “You might be able to succeed, if you keep up your training.”

“Then leave me alone. I can do this without being watched.” 

Lips quirking slightly, the Sith backed away, pulling the huge, old-fashioned hilt from its place at his belt. “Would you care to place a wager then?”

“On what?” She doesn’t move except to take her lightsaber in hand and scrub at her eyes, choosing to remain as far as she could from him. 

“Defeat me right now, and I’ll leave you to your foolishness,” Scourge replied. “If you wish to stay awake until you drop, I’ll not interfere.”

“And if I lose,” she can’t help but ask. There’s a heaviness that’s been dragging at her limbs whenever she’s not touching the force, and she opens herself to it now, relieved when the energy feels _right;_ if this will truly get him to leave her alone, then she’ll take his bet, and use every advantage she can.

“Then you obey me, and go to bed. When you wake, we begin your training. The proper way.” 

Eyes narrowing, Khrysa at last uncurls from her ball and shuffles to the edge of the holoterminal, allows her feet to dangle from it. “Unacceptable. I’ll not learn anything from a Sith.” After a moment, she sighs, head drooping a little. “But I will go to bed.” She adds in a low mutter as she stands, “Probably won’t sleep worth a damn, anyway.”

“Hmm,” is all the Sith says in answer. 

He backed away, moving to the wide, empty space in front of the holoterminal and leaving her room to get settled, to raise her ‘saber in a guard position, waiting until she nodded at him to attack. Scourge doesn’t move as fast as when he slammed her on her back, but the fight is over within minutes; no matter that she’d done her best, the force just isn’t enough to combat days without sleep, and she glares up at him from her latest position on the floor, her back against the wall and her weapon knocked halfway across the room. “Well, you won. Let me up.”

Red eyes narrow, and Scourge goes to one knee in front of her, the bloody tip of his lightsaber drifting from her throat to rest in the space between her breasts; her breath catches in her lungs at the implied threat, and she can’t stop herself from pressing into the wall, not trusting the way he’s looking at her, not trusting _him_ at all. 

“You are afraid,” he said musingly, gaze locked on her face; he snorted when she shook her head. “I can smell it on you, so don’t try to lie to me. It isn’t defeat that you’re afraid of, however, is it?” 

Her mouth is dry again. “It’s what comes after,” she finally whispered, cold running down her spine to settle in her stomach. She can’t stop her gaze from flicking from his face to his lightsaber and lower, the cold tightening into a knot as her eyes darted back up. “You know what they did to me.”

“I do. You _cannot_ let it control you,” Scourge emphasized. The red blade is extinguished and hooked back to his belt, but he doesn’t move. “Put your hands above your head.”

Anger sparks at the command, overpowering her fear. “No.”

“We agreed that you would obey me.” His voice is close to a rumble, and he settles on both knees before her; even sitting, he’s so much taller than her, shoulders broad enough that they block most of the room from her gaze. “I am trying to help you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest to hide how her hands were beginning to tremble. “And I said I would go to bed, not learn from you.”

“Did I say anything about learning? **Put. Your hands. Above. Your head.”**

Before she realizes what she’s doing, Khrysa’s obeying, mind blanked by the power in his words; she glares at him after, tries to move, to get up, only to feel the blood drain from her face. He’s pinned her in place with the force, and she tugs almost desperately at the grip, not wanting to be here, not wanting this-- 

“Calm down, Jedi.” It’s another order, but one that isn’t enforced, lacking the power that caused her to follow his last. 

“I don’t know what you’re going to do, I am not calming down!” Her voice is panicked, her heart racing in her chest--they’re not alone on the ship, if she’s loud enough, someone might wake up, might come save her before anything else happens, before she does more than lose a one-sided fight-- “I’ll go to bed, just let me up!”

“What do you remember from your training?” He’s still calm, his blazing red eyes locked on her face; the force around him--around them, he’s so close that she can’t help but feel the suppressed darkness radiating from him--is just as controlled as his expression, coiled like a viper ready to strike. “Specifically, when you failed the tasks laid before you. I’ll not let you up until you answer.”

She tried to scowl, tried to jerk her arms free, but they remained firmly glued to the wall, and Scourge’s face creased in a faint frown; the energy holding her crawled down, immobilizing her to the elbows and she finally has to close her eyes, gasp in breath after heaving, shaking breath. Khrysa doesn’t want to think about _that_ any more than anything else that had happened while she was under the emperor’s control, and when she thinks she can stand to speak it out loud, she still can’t bear to look at him, bowing her head so all she sees is the metal plating of the ship’s floor.

“T-they touched me,” she managed to choke out, voice barely loud enough to hear. “Called me n-names. Made.. made me t-touch them.”

They did more than that; she has sense memories of her arms being twisted behind her back until she fell to her knees; the sharp edges of consoles digging into her waist and thighs, fingers yanking her head back, holding her still so hot fluid--not blood, even if she wished it had been--could splatter across her face. It mirrors stories that she’s heard all across the galaxy, in every refugee camp and every war-torn system, and it hurts that she can share that pain now, that she was violated in such a way, when she should have been strong and able to fight back, should have been able to do anything other than passively accept her fate.

“How many times did it happen?”

The anger that’s half-buried under remembered fear and shame flickers at that question, and her heart thumps harder for a second. _How_ **_dare_ ** _you ask me that,_ she wants to snarl, cheeks heating at this latest humiliation, _you were_ **_there,_ ** _you were in charge of my ‘training,’ how_ **_dare you--_ **

Scourge isn’t smirking like she expected him to be when she peeled her eyelids apart and lifted her head to glare at him; that alien, ridged and tendriled face is still, eyes hard as ruby chips as he repeated himself, “How many times did the overseers touch you?”

Gritting her teeth, she ducks her head again, trying to hide how watery her eyes are, hopefully scrubbing away the ones that have already fallen. “I don’t _know._ I can’t _remember.”_

Leather-covered fingers gripping her chin forced her head up, pulling it away from the dampening sleeve of her shirt. “Do you remember any of them completing the act?”

Khrysa can’t stop herself from snapping, yanking uselessly at both grips holding her, “What does it matter?!” 

“It matters,” he replied softly, “because the only one that _finished_ is now dead. I killed him myself, and ordered the termination of his bloodline. The others learned their lessons well before he did, and should not have done anything more to you. If so,” his voice hardens, “then give me their faces, and I will hunt them down. It will give me something to do, and should go a long way towards helping you heal.”

“How is _killing them_ going to help me heal,” she managed after a moment, unable to keep from recoiling--an entire _bloodline,_ she knew that Sith could be merciless, but everyone that was family to that single overseer?! “It’s _done,_ the only thing I want is to _forget it,_ every damned nanosecond that I can’t help but remember!”

“Because after they die, the only ones to have seen you that vulnerable will be me, and that idiot medtech of yours.” Scourge finally released her chin, settling back on his haunches as her mouth dropped.

“Doc?” She asked incredulously after a moment, every other thought grinding to a near painful halt at the idea. “Wha--he--I _never--”_

His calm expression breaking, the Sith grins slightly, the corner of his lips quirking upward as he tilted his head towards her, eyes sly. “Oh? He _hasn’t_ had the pleasure of your company yet?”

She’s blushing again, can feel it beginning to spread down to her neck. “He’s not even seen me with my shirt off, why would I--”

“Ah, the famed Jedi modesty,” he interrupted, grin widening. “Don’t worry, your council won’t hear it from me. Unless you wish them to know?”

Growling, Khrysa suddenly lashed out with one leg, hoping to catch the Sith off guard with a swift kick--she’s got the leverage to at least hit the boxy bit of armor on his chest, if he holds still for her blow to land--only to curse when he tsked, and closed a hand around her ankle, stopping her effortlessly. 

"I’ll take that as a no,” Scourge stated, looking closely at her leg before adjusting his grip, reaching under to find the buckles holding her greaves in place; the mirrsteel makes an almost melodic clang as he throws it behind him. 

He slides her boot off next, and it lands with a thump near the holoterminal; he has to tug her other leg out from under her to get at the remaining greave and boot, carelessly tossing both away after pulling them free, and fear sinks back into her belly. ”W-wait,” she stammered, pressing into the wall and yanking the limb away from him. “What did you mean, only you? And what are you doing?”

He’s reaching for the armor over her chest now, deftly undoing the buckles and slipping the tongues free; the back of it slides up as she hunched away, struggling anew with the grip on her arms. The chest piece is also thrown over one shoulder, the bracers around her forearms and the cuisses over her thighs removed with the same careful, practiced motions, and then she’s only covered by a shirt and leggings, deeply regretting that morning’s (last night’s? She truly doesn’t remember) decision to abandon her usual layers of tunics in favor of the lighter fabric. 

One brow rises. “Helping with your armor, of course,” he answered in a bland tone, ignoring her first question. “You can’t sleep in it.”

She can, and has slept in it, and she tried not to sound alarmed when she replied, “I’m a big girl, I don’t need help getting it off!”

This careful stripping of her physical defenses is not what she needs right now, and she growled weakly at the smirk that crossed his lips, heartbeat pounding in her ears. 

“Ah yes, the twisted straps and misaligned buckles _definitely_ show your current competency with anything more complicated than lift controls.” 

That… Might explain why she had had such trouble with it when she fastened it on; habit and suspicion of the shifty looking humans running the dinky station had made her armor up, the same as the others, although she had yet to see Scourge even remove his cape in the time he’s been on board. 

“Shut up,” Khrysa muttered at last, only to jerk at a soft tug on the blue braid that’s somehow flipped forward on her shoulder. Long and slightly bedraggled, the once deep blue dye was fading into turquoise; it’s lasted years now, even if her natural black is showing, and she abruptly wonders if she’ll have the time or opportunity to recolor it. “You could have waited until we got to my room to strip me.”

“Somehow, Jedi, I can’t believe that you would let anyone, much less me help without another fight.” He snapped the thin elastic banding at the bottom, and frowned briefly at his gloves before dropping her braid and removing them, tucking them away behind his belt; she’s surprised to see pointed black nails at the ends of long, thick fingers, and more surprised at the delicate way he began combing them through her hair, undoing it with far more patience than she would have. “My first love was like you, in some ways.” Red eyes flick to her face, dropping back to watch as he worked hair free of the messy two(three?)-days old braid. “Refused help unless it was forced on her. I don’t think she ever dyed her hair, however.”

Blinking, she can’t think of anything to say in response to that, and lets her head fall back to thump against the wall. She still doesn’t trust him, still feels that fear and anger coil inside her, but the almost tender treatment is making her eyelids droop, exhaustion beginning to overtake her. Surely she could close them for a few minutes, even with the Sith so close?

She stirs when there’s a more purposeful tug, head tilting to allow Scourge to pull more of the braid over her shoulder; the ends of it fan across her chest, different shades of blue against the brown fabric. Maybe she wouldn’t dye it; there were gene augments to change the color at the genetic level, but she’d never looked into them, certain that the council granted allowance provided to every Jedi wouldn’t even begin to cover the costs. Then again, hazard pay _was_ a thing given to active-duty members of the order; maybe getting captured and brainwashed by the emperor for an unknown amount of time would net her enough credits to consider an augment.

The easy, careful movements of fingers unknotting her hair, almost caressing as they worked, was gradually causing her breathing to slow even more; in spite of the way her arms were held above her head, she was almost asleep when those nails caught against a nipple, blood rushing to her face as she jerked awake with a startled gasp. Eyes flying open, she leaned hard against the wall, curling into herself and panting with renewed fear; she fully expected Scourge to be leering at her, was bewildered to see that his face was instead creased in concentration as he held a particularly knotted strand up for her to see. “Were you asleep when you did this?”

Grateful that he’s ignoring the way she recoiled from him, she started to shake her head, stopping at a pull on her scalp. “J-just did it out of the shower,” she stammered, making herself lower her legs instead of keeping them pressed to her chest. “Don’t remember if I combed it.”

“I would say that you didn’t,” Scourge muttered; he went back to working the snarl, picking it apart until the strand hung smooth from his fingers. Instead of letting it drop, he laid it--delicately--against her breast. His eyes met hers just as he purposely rested fingertips in a wide circle around the nipple he had just caught, thumb brushing down in a firm, deliberate stroke.

The sound that escaped her then was too short to be a moan, too loud to be a gasp; the heat on her cheeks spread down her neck even as her stomach tightened. She can’t remember how the encounters with the overseers began, could only remember sensations and fear and anger; but she knows for a fact that none of them waited for her to swallow and finally nod, was just as sure that they didn’t methodically work her nipple to full hardness before addressing her in a low, amused rumble; the grip holding her to the wall loosened until she was held by wrists alone, allowing her room to hesitantly press into the touch. 

“I’m surprised, Jedi,” he said softly, eyes glinting mischievously. “You haven’t tried to kick me yet, and,” he pinched the tender bit of flesh gently, causing another sound to leave her, her face heating further, “you seem to be enjoying this.”

He moved to caress her other breast, just as slow and methodical; his voice dropped another octave as more quiet sounds left her. “Is that Jedi modesty I’ve heard so much about a falsehood?” 

The points of his nails were sharp even through the fabric of her shirt as he trailed them over her breast, pressing into the sensitive skin until a moan left her lips. He switched after it peaked, nails pricking and catching at cloth, alternating from one nipple to the other and back again while she struggled not to squirm, fear retreating in favor of a thick, liquid heat that pooled low in her belly, spreading to her sex and making her squeeze her thighs together to try and hide how aroused she was getting.

A hand landing on her leg, thick, long fingers dipping in between to tease her with those sharp, sharp nails, made her head fall back so she could pant. Her nipples were so hard they _ached,_ something that she had never experienced before except in the deepest, darkest parts of the night, when the urges to satisfy herself with hurried strokes of her fingers overwhelmed her. Despite the knowledge that other Jedi indulged in this kind of earthly pleasure, she had never expected to have _company_ in this, had always contented herself with half-formed thoughts of someone holding her, biting her lips to keep her desperate noises quiet. She was gnawing at the inside of her cheek even as she panted now, doing her best to stifle those sounds, but Scourge apparently wanted to hear them; both of her breasts were grabbed at once, huge, feverishly hot hands cupping and massaging until a tiny cry was dragged from her, fire racing through her veins at how good it felt. 

“Don’t stay quiet on my account, little Jedi,” he rumbled. “I like to know when my partners enjoy what I do to them.” 

“N-not doing it fo-ah! For you,” she managed, slitting one eye open to half glare at him. “Don’t w-want to wake them.”

“I am sure the only one that would mind is your medtech.”

That was very nearly a splash of cold water on her arousal, and she straightened as much as she could, both eyes open to glare harder. “Keep bringing him up and this is over,” she tried to snap, breaking off into a soft squeal; he was pinching now, tugging and pulling her nipples to make her arch towards him, the slick feeling between her legs growing. 

“Well,” Scourge murmured, lips spreading in a smirk so wide she could see the pointed edges of his teeth. “We definitely don’t want _that_ to happen. After all, I’ve barely gotten started.”

With that, he released her, only to take her shirt in both hands and tear, the fabric ripping almost to her navel. She squeaked at the sudden rush of cool air, skin pebbling rapidly; he didn’t wait for her to adjust, and calloused fingers gripped her again, thumbs rough on her nipples as he continued tormenting them. A second squeak escaped her when he leaned down, moving close enough to take one in-between his lips, a spike of fear causing her to try and pull away before she realized--the pressure she was feeling wasn’t from teeth sinking into flesh, it was suction and hot-wet muscle laving at her. 

She couldn’t hold back her noises after that; reaching for the force was difficult, but she managed it, weaving a hasty sound dampening shield to cover the entryway as Scourge switched, continuing to massage her breasts with hands and mouth and tongue, making her wriggle and squirm, hands fisting helplessly above her head.

Khrysa whined when the Sith finally pulled back, her chest tingling and heart racing; he grinned at the sound, slid a hand between her thighs and rubbed, _hard._ The cry he pulled from her by doing this echoed in the room and made his grin turn into an almost evil smirk. “Oh yes, you _do_ like this, don’t you?”

She stuttered something out, bit her tongue when he tore the cloth at her sex, and then lost track of everything that left her mouth; that calloused thumb was circling her, dipping lower to gather slick and spread it across sensitive flesh, making the glide of it ever so much _more,_ desire and arousal twisting higher--

A finger sliding down to caress her entrance, the firm press of his thumb and his mouth closing on her breast again, teeth scraping one nipple as he toyed with the other, finally tumbled her over the edge, her vision whiting out as she babbled, hips spasming towards him. 

She blinked back into the galaxy slowly, shivering through aftershocks that Scourge petted her through, drawing close to press lips to her forehead. The tenderness in the gesture was at odds with how he kept his thumb firmly on her still throbbing clit, the nails that pricked the back of her neck scratching in a way that made the heat in her blood flare; she could feel his own desire in the force, knew that he was waiting for his turn, and felt her mouth dry at the realization that he had yet to release her from his force grip. Swallowing down her fear, she closed her eyes and spread her legs a little wider, trying to make room for him; most of the pain she remembered from the overseers was focused around her sex, and if his _fingers_ were thick, she couldn’t imagine how thick _he_ was. The Sith was easily over two meters tall, towering head and shoulders and chest above her; it was going to _hurt,_ no matter what he did. 

“It might,” rumbled against her, and Scourge shifted enough to pull his hand from her sex. “There are ways to keep it from hurting too much, however.” 

Flushing, Khrysa scooted back until she hit the wall. “Don’t read my mind,” she muttered, tugging half-heartedly at her arms. “And let me go.”

“It’s hard not to, Jedi. You lost your shields for a moment there,” he said, sounding far too amused. The fingers that had brought her so much pleasure were slick, and she glared at him when he placed them at her lips, tilting her head away. One ridged brow rose, the smirk on his face remaining. “Don’t want to taste yourself?”

“Not really.” Her lips brushed his fingertips, and she couldn’t stop her tongue from flicking at the wetness they left. It… Actually wasn’t too bad, but she wasn’t going to admit it out loud.

“Yes, you will. Open.” She glared harder, but obeyed, opening her mouth just wide enough to accept one finger, tongue flinching away from the end of his nail. Instead of disappearing, his smirk simply widened when she bit him. "This is for your benefit, not mine," he rumbled, "besides, you're going to have to bite a lot harder than that for it to hurt. Now, be a good little Jedi and suck."

She growled wordlessly at him, opened wider, and tried to ignore the taste of his skin, the musk and slick on his fingers from where he had touched her; her mouth was drying faster than she could moisten it, his fingers thick, the nails far more pointed than she had first thought. He let her try and wet the digits for a long, silent moment, his eyes gradually narrowing; he took them from her lips, gripped her chin and tilted her head up, leaning forward in one seamless movement.

Khrysa didn't know what she expected--maybe for him to fasten lips on her breasts, or possibly press a kiss to her forehead--but it wasn't this; the tendrils framing his mouth were softer than she expected, the ornaments hanging from them skin warm as he kissed her, swallowing her surprised noises and smirking against her lips. His tongue slipped in, caressing and tasting and mapping, dragging more sounds from her throat than she was comfortable with; she bucked at the glide of calloused fingers circling her clit, whined into the kiss as her hands fisted helplessly above her head. If he was trying to distract her from the fear of being hurt, it was working; when he finally pulled back, she followed unthinkingly, eyes closed as desire raged higher inside her. Her mind was nearly blank, pleasure sparking from nerve to nerve, but before she could complain about the kiss ending, his fingers were back at her lips, slicked anew. Gasping in a breath, she accepted them without a word, and this time saliva dripped from his skin when he drew them from her, reaching down between them.

Her toes curled at the added wet, fingers marked by years of lightsaber use rough between her sensitive lips; his other hand had tangled itself in her hair, tilting her head back so he could drag lips and teeth along the skin of her throat. She was puzzled when the hand between her thighs didn’t slip inside, kept rubbing firm, measured circles around her instead; she was beginning to _want_ that penetration, despite the way something twisted in her belly at the thought, but he was stroking and kissing and nipping, building that heat back up into a frenzy that made her hips roll into his caresses. 

Finally hauling enough brain cells together to speak, her words left in a stammering whimper. “Why ah-aren’t you... put--nng!… in me? Ahhn~” She broke off into a whine, his teeth closing on the corner of her jaw with a soft growl.

“They don’t retract,” he muttered, the words vibrating against her skin. When she made another bewildered sound, Scourge chuckled low and dark, using the grip on her hair to tilt her head down to watch as he fingered her. “My claws.” His fingers were glistening with slick as he moved to curl them into the top of her thigh, and this time she made herself pay attention to the way the nails were formed, how they tore her leggings like wet flimsy, and dug into the flesh underneath to leave stinging pink scratches. “You are human.” His hand trailed down, the back of one knuckle pressing into her folds to slide against her clit. “Soft.” His wrist turned, the tip of his middle finger ever-so-carefully entering her, and she flinched at the slight scrape on her walls, the stretch as her body accepted him. “Fragile.” He nuzzled against her collarbone, eyes gleaming as he watched her gasp; he’d changed the angle, the sharp tip no longer able to prick her. “It would be _so easy_ for me to hurt you without meaning to. And so,” he paused to work his finger deeper, the thick digit dragging a moan from her. “I must be careful. Work you open, make sure you can take me.”

“O-oh,” she gasped, head rolling back as he let go of her hair. _That makes sense..._

He waits until Khrysa’s able to take two of those thick fingers pumping unrelentingly into her before giving her a moment to catch her breath. Releasing the grip holding her up, Scourge chuckles when she falls forward against him, eyes closed as she panted; he’s pulled multiple orgasms out of her, until hair was clinging to her face, and she wants nothing more than to curl into his feverishly hot body and sleep.

“Surely you aren’t worn out already?” The words vibrate in his chest and she slits an eye open, tilting to look at him. 

“Shut up,” she muttered hoarsely, trying to adjust herself so that she’s not leaning so heavily on the Sith. “Just… need… a minute.”

“Too bad,” Scourge replied, his smirk widening. “We can’t let you tighten back up.” 

With that, he manhandles her, hands curling under her thighs and lifting to pin her to the wall once again; she squeaks at the movement, clutching at his shoulders and then the smooth skin of his head as he throws both of her legs over his shoulders. An invisible grip forces her wrists to her chest, hot breath caressing her before his tongue swipes slow and hungry across her folds, the soft spurs at his cheeks digging into the insides of her thighs all she registers as suction began on her clit. 

It turned out that Khrysa was a talker; when he was spreading her open, she’d heard her words echo back to her, sharp and high, demanding and begging by turns, and it didn’t change now. As Scourge licked and sucked at her sex, his tongue wickedly clever as he worked her over, she whimpered helplessly, unable to figure out if she was trying to push him away--she was so _tender,_ not quite aching, but _oh,_ it still felt so _good_ \--or pull him closer, her trapped hands clawing for something to grab onto.

“O-ooh _fuuh-ck_ , oh yes, _yes--”_ Her head cracked against plating as her back arched; the suction was joined by his fingers, pressing into her, curling to make sparks flare in her head. “Please, _please_ , oh force _...”_

They curl and twist, rubbing at her walls until tears formed, her babbling interrupted by a hiccuping sob when he withdrew. He didn’t stop touching, a thumb taking the place of his mouth as he shoved her higher against the wall. She wailed when something slid into her; his tongue was _pointed,_ filling her like his fingers hadn’t, his mouth spread wide so he could lick deep inside her, his fangs--they _were_ fangs, she had felt them dig into her when his kisses turned to bites, still so careful not to close too hard and break the skin--flush against her folds. “Ah! Scourge!”

When she tried to curl forward, hips jerking away from that slick penetration, it felt like a hand spread over her sternum, keeping her still so he could continue fucking her with his tongue; his name escaped her again, a hitching cry that made him growl, the sound vibrating against and inside her.

_Call for me like that again, little Jedi, and I won’t be able to control myself._

She was faintly aware that the words were in her head, that he couldn’t actually be saying them out loud with his tongue so deep inside her, but she still whimpered--this was _controlled?!_ She couldn’t imagine him _losing_ control, couldn’t begin to picture what it would look like if the Sith _wasn’t_ holding himself back, and yet something curled low and hot inside her at the warning, some spark of devilment wanting to experience it--

Breath leaving her in panting gasps, she looked down to see blazing red eyes watching her, lit up by greed; what little control she had left (not much to begin with, to choose to let this happen, flying in the face of the code in the hopes of overwriting those awful sense-memories of being violated with something that was _actually_ pleasurable, something that she _wanted_ and _consented_ to) splintered.

“Please,” Khrysa begged, fingers curling as she tried to reach him, “Scourge, please, I need it, I’m ready, please, my lord--”

Tongue leaving her with a snarl, he shoved her legs off his shoulders and let her drop to his lap, one hand sinking into her still half-braided, hopelessly tangled hair to pull her head up, keeping her still so he could ravage her mouth. She whined pleadingly into the kiss, not minding the taste of herself on his lips, nor the way the sharp edge of one fang pricked her, the hint of copper making her arousal burn higher.

She was breathless when he finally ended the kiss, his grip on hair and waist tight almost to the point of pain as he forced her to look him in the eye. His voice dropped even further, a rumble akin to groundquakes as he demanded, “What did I say about using _those words?”_

“P-please,” she whined--no, _mewled,_ her voice a needy rasp-- “Lord Scourge, please, I need you--”

Red eyes closed, his face twisting with another growl-- “You are _testing_ me, Jedi.”

But he released her, invisible hands shoving her into the wall so he could unbuckle the wide belt around his waist, yank the chest plate from himself and throw it to the side, revealing a still massive chest under silken tunics, his shoulder pauldrons falling with hurried movements to clatter against plating. Unburdened by armor, she could see the huge, proud bulge between his thighs, and felt her mouth dry--oh force, that was going to be _inside her,_ stretching her to her very _limit--_

His cape puddled behind him, Scourge shifted, clawed hands working at his trousers until his cock was freed; darkening from a red that matched the rest of his skin to purple at the head, the shaft was thick, and she gasped when she realized that it was _ridged,_ all the way down to the base--that must have been why the overseers had hurt her so, her body not made to accommodate the alien biology without careful preparation. Curling one hand around himself, he stroked, thumbing the strangely conical head to spread the fluid that was beginning to trickle from a small slit; at least that part looked human, from what she remembered seeing in the mandatory health classes, and she swallowed again. Before Scourge could turn anything more than blazing eyes on her, she concentrated, her own shutting as she called--the grip holding her to the wall snapped, and she slumped down, reaching to touch. 

The Sith went still, eyes going wide for a brief second when she stayed on hands and knees, fingertips brushing that oddly shaped cock. Licking her lips and doing her best to ignore the anxiety that was wanting her limbs to tremble, she looked straight up at him, and closed her mouth over his head; he didn’t taste like her--why should he, he was a different species entirely--but there was still musk, an almost spicy undertone to the salty fluid that touched her tongue. He drew in a hissing breath; clawed fingers ran through her hair, brushing it out of her face so Scourge could watch as her cheeks hollowed around him, as she repositioned herself to better take him. He was _big,_ thicker than the two fingers she had sucked on earlier, and a moan slipped from her in spite of a dim not-memory surfacing, of a smaller hand holding her by the jaw. 

“You continue to surprise me,” he grunted softly, hand light on the back of her neck. He was still holding himself, adjusting his grip to give her more, fingers wrapping around the base and stroking in tandem with her tentative bobbing. “This will be your last chance, little one. How far are you willing to go, to not let your fears control you?”

Eyes shutting, she drew back, lips sliding from him with a soft pop so she could lick the underside; just as there were ridges on the top, there was a matching set on the bottom, his skin hot and surprisingly silky under her tongue. “Call me little one again,” she muttered after a second, baring her teeth threateningly, “and I’ll make sure it hurts this time.”

His answer is a delighted laugh that roughens when she goes back to sucking, taking as much of him as she could, that spicy musk getting stronger; he continued running his nails along her scalp, occasionally hissing or groaning as she explored him. The small areas between the ridges and just below the head seemed to be the most sensitive, judging from how his stroking stuttered and his hips thrust minutely into her before jerking to a halt. Scourge was just as big as she had feared, and her jaw quickly began to ache; _stars,_ taking this might actually kill her, but at least she’ll have enjoyed the touch of his fingers and mouth beforehand.

Another chuckle rumbles out of him. “You’ll be fine, Jedi. I’m not as big as that.” 

Raising one eyebrow, she shot the Sith a Look as she went down as far as she was able, pausing to wrap her own fingers around him where she finally stopped, his head pressing uncomfortably deep into her throat; she almost couldn’t close her hand around the shaft, the ache in her jaw sharpening until she pulled away. Thin strings of saliva connected them before snapping, and Khrysa turned that look on what she had been able to take. “Yeah,” she replied, the words a soft rasp. “Not that big. Sure.”

Compared to what was left, she’d swallowed just over half of him. 

“Believe it or don’t,” he said, grinning down at her. “There _are_ men larger than me. You just haven’t found the right holochannels.”

Mouth dropping, she straightened, hands leaving him entirely. “I do _not_ watch porn!”

“Really? You should, it can be quite entertaining.” There’s heat in his eyes and a smirk on his lips as he caught her shoulder, pressing until Khrysa was forced to scoot back on her knees or fall. 

Metal hit her shoulder blades and the fear that she had managed to ignore coiled inside her once more. “I think I like you better when you’re not talking,” she finally remarked, gaze dropping to his length; he was stroking it, working her saliva further down as the hand on her shoulder trailed to cup her breast, thumb circling her nipple slowly. 

“And I like it when you cry out for me, desperate and so, so needy,” he rumbled, leaning down. She met him halfway, mouth opening on a gasp when those clawed fingers pinched, tugged her higher on her knees; he immediately took advantage of her gasp, nipping her bottom lip before sliding his tongue into her. She’d almost forgotten what he’d said by the time the kiss ended, desire overriding her anxieties for the nth time that night, was surprised to find herself halfway in his lap and her fingers tangled in his tunics, something long and hard pressing almost incessantly against her sex. “Now, make those sounds again,” Scourge ordered, gripping her by the hips and lifting her. 

Khrysa whimpered at that, shifted to squeeze between them, fumbling along his length to guide him inside; he burned like a furnace between her lips, made her drag in a breath that hitched on a sob as he breached her, and couldn’t stop herself from mewling, “So big, oh force…” as she sank onto him. 

“That’s it,” he growled; he wrapped fingers in her hair, tilted her head back for another kiss as he rolled up into her. _Such a good little Jedi, moaning so sweetly for me._

She does more than moan; as Scourge worked deeper, thrusting harder as she loosened around him, she goes back to begging, this time for him to slow, to let her get used to the drag of his cock, the way the ridges bumped against the spot that set fireworks off in her head and made her forget basic in favor of wordless, sobbing cries. She had a white-knuckled grip on his tunics, was beginning to rock against him, desperate for more, when there’s a crash of breaking crockery. 

Eyes shooting open and the blood draining from her face--she’d forgotten they weren’t alone on the ship, had forgotten everything but Scourge and the way her body was clenching on him, the orgasm that was edging closer and closer as he fucked her against the wall, one thumb rubbing her clit in tandem with his thrusts--Khrysa’s head whipped around to see a dumbfounded Kimble standing just inside her sound-dampening shield, shards of ceramic at his feet. 

The medtech’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes widening before narrowing into a glare, hand going for a blaster that he wasn’t carrying.

“Get offa her, you damned alien,” he snapped, starting towards them when his hand closed on nothing. “Or I swea--” 

“Leave. Now,” Scourge growled, and something in her neck cracked as she swung back to look at the Sith; his words didn’t have power behind them, hadn’t been a command charged by the force; he hadn’t even stopped pounding into her, simply shifted to better brace them both, hips snapping forward to make her bite her tongue on another exclamation.

“Like hell--” Kimble began, and it’s Khrysa’s turn to glare, to snap at the medtech breathlessly,

**“You saw nothing. Go back to bed.”**

The force reverberated with her command, the anger vanishing from his face as rapidly as it had appeared; eyes gone flat and blank, Kimble stumbled to a halt halfway to where they knelt, the former emperor’s wrath buried to the hilt inside her, her back shoved against the wall and her clothing torn, bits of armor and weaponry tossed carelessly about the room. “I saw nothing,” he repeated in a dull voice, “I’m going back to bed.”

She watched until his back disappeared from view, and then turned her glare onto Scourge, snarling wordlessly when she saw that he was smirking down at her. “Don’t feel like dealing with the fallout?”

“There _is_ no fa-AH!” 

Choking on a yelp, she can’t complete her sentence, can only cling to him helplessly as something _stroked_ her nerves, shoving her over a white-hot precipice that made her body shake and tremble. Teeth close on her throat, the Sith purring as he left her, only to slam back home, the ridges on his cock catching almost painfully as she clenched on him. Squinting an eye open, her chest heaving--oh gods, he was going to _ruin_ her, and she didn't care--Khrysa managed to gasp, "No. Fallout. I-I've told him--mn!"

“Hmm.” He leaned down, lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “That’s not what _he_ thinks.” His tongue slips into her mouth just as his voice echoes in her head, _He wants you just as bad as the emperor._

“He can keep on w-wanting,” Khrysa stammered after he pulled away, head falling to the side so Scourge could place nipping kisses along the line of her throat, biting just hard enough that she knows there'll be bruises later. But there’s danger now, Kimble’s presence making her stomach knot; she doesn’t want Kira or Rusk to find them, doesn’t want to wipe their memories like she had the medtech’s. Forcing her fingers to loosen where they tangled in Scourge’s tunics, she curled them over his shoulder, digging nails into solid muscle in a bid to get his attention. “I-if he’s awake,” she gasped, “the others won’t be f-far behind. Hurry _ah--_ ”

She felt his lips spread in a smirk against her skin, gasped again when his hips rolled. “They’re more polite than he is. They already know.” 

Her mouth dropped open--no no no, they couldn’t, they’d never see her the same way again (Kira’s blue eyes already held pity and understanding when she looked at Khrysa, while Rusk had turned stiffly formal when they spoke over pried open consoles, careful not to linger when he had to get close to her)--but the sound that escaped her was a garbled exclamation, and Scourge chuckled, grasping her waist with both hands as he settled back. “If you want me to hurry, then _ride me.”_

“Bastard,” she huffed at last, feeling heat spread all the way down her neck.

Even so, she moved with him, one arm over his shoulders as she strove to match his rhythm, her knees clamped over his hips; it was _better,_ the angle of penetration somehow even deeper than before, his cock rubbing deliciously against her walls. His lips found hers, kissing her just as deeply, a soft growl rumbling his chest when she nipped his bottom lip, the flesh soft under her teeth. Once again, she was losing herself to pleasure, mind shutting off so that all she knew was the rise and fall of their bodies, the heat against and inside her, Scourge’s hard, muscled torso pressing her into the cool metal of the wall behind them. 

This time, she couldn’t find words; the sounds escaping her were muffled by the endless kissing, short, sharp cries swallowed by the Sith as she began tightening on him. Scourge didn’t seem to have the same problem verbalizing his own pleasure, his voice echoing in her mind, praising and encouraging her-- _Good girl, taking me so well, you’re so_ tight, _keep making those desperate sounds as you_ cum _for me, sweet little Jedi--_ as she finally rode him over an atom-thin edge, mouth dropping in a keening wail-- _Oh force, please please, more, gods yes!_

He didn’t give her time to recover from her orgasm, kept pounding into her and shoving her back over the edge again and _again,_ until he snarled into the flesh of her collarbone, one hand tangled in her hair to make her back arch, his other bruisingly tight on her waist, and she keened hoarsely at how he thickened, pulsing inside her; his hips kept jerking, thrusting as boiling heat filled her to the brim. 

Khrysa was limp when he finally slid from her, her skin thoroughly dampened with sweat. “Well,” she muttered after she caught her breath, staring dazedly up at him; her voice was a barely audible rasp and she swallowed thickly to try and moisten her throat. “That was fun.”

“And if you can’t sleep after this,” he rumbled back, an actual smile quirking his lips instead of the smirk she was expecting, “I will be very surprised.”

It took her a long moment to understand that statement, and she snorted when she finally remembered, beginning to push at him. “Yeah yeah, hurrah for you.”

Scourge chuckled at that, shifting so she was cradled to his chest in one arm; she felt his other working beneath her, tucking his still hard length away before standing in one smooth movement, snagging his cape as he did so. He was. Very tall. Squeaking at how far away the floor suddenly seemed, she grabbed at him, clutching at his tunics with shaky hands. “What, am I not allowed to walk now?”

“Do you think you could?”

Considering how she couldn’t really feel anything but a pleasant, tingling ache below the waist, probably not. Snorting again, Khrysa let him take down the barrier she had built across the entrance, not even able to flinch at the brief surge of darkness as he draped the cape over her torn clothing. Right where he usually recharged at the bottom of the short stairs was C2-N2, his head bowed until she rasped at him, “Ceetoo? Could you clean up in there? And put up my armor?”

“Of course, master, I am here to serve,” the droid replied, standing jerkily. His head cocked to one side as Scourge passed, still carrying her, and his modulated voice sounded confused as he continued, “Master, are you well? Should I fetch Doct--”

“Nope,” she squeaked hurriedly, grabbing at the fabric covering her when it threatened to slip, “No, no, I’m fine, really. Just--we sparred, that was all, I’m fine!”

“Very well, master.” The droid didn’t sound like he believed her, but then Scourge was turning into the ‘fresher, and she lost sight of him, the door shutting behind them. 

Setting her down on the counter, the Sith quickly washed off his hands before turning to dig into the tiny linen closet squeezed into the corner, emerging with a washcloth that he ran under the faucet. Khrysa raised an eyebrow at him, but was too weary to fight him off when he tugged the cape from her and spread her legs; she twitched at the feel of wet fabric at the insides of her thighs, wiping at the slick mess that was already dripping from her. It felt… familiar, those red hands cleaning away the evidence of their coupling. “You’ve done this before,” she muttered, leaning heavily against the mirror. It wasn’t a question, despite her tone. 

Red eyes flicked up to meet hers before dropping back to watch as he gently pressed into her, the cloth making her gasp as it touched flesh that was almost over-sensitized. “Who do you think took care of you? You wouldn’t allow the droids to touch you, after the overseers.”

Well, that answered that. Her eyes had almost slipped closed when another question popped into her head, and she straightened to look him in the eye, heart trying to beat faster. “I’m not going to--”

“Don’t worry,” Scourge interrupted, tossing the cloth into the laundry basket hanging next to the door; he briefly rested a hand on her, a pulse of energy easing some of the ache from between her legs. “It will not quicken. The emperor felt it best that I not be distracted by potential progeny.”

“Ah,” she answered intelligently, blinking. 

She blinked again when the Sith had her turn her back to him, but let her eyes drift closed as she leaned against the wall; he’d found a brush somewhere, and was carefully working it through the tangles of her sweat-dampened hair, pausing to undo the remainder of her braid. Either he was faster at untangling hair than she was, or she simply fell asleep while he was working, for in between one breath and the next, Scourge was setting the brush aside and sliding his arms under her knees and lower back, cradling her to his chest. She did snuggle into his hold, head resting against his chest as she yawned; under her ear, his heartbeat was steady and strong. 

Hers, on the other hand, was thumping a little harder, and her breath wanting to tremble. She didn’t think it was from fear, but possibly from shame; after all, she’d willfully broken the code, had let her emotions rule her instead of controlling them, and now that she wasn’t distracted by the Sith’s hands on her, she could feel the others in the force. Down in the lower half of the ship, Kira was meditating, or trying to; her presence was spiky with a suspicion that only soothed when Khrysa reached out mental fingers.

_So, do I get to kill a Sith today, or does he live?_

Feeling her lips tilt in a slight smile despite the tangle of emotions tightening her chest, Khrysa answered, _No killing today. Let the sergeant know, too? I can just about hear him loading his blaster._

 _Damn. Alright, I’ll tell him._ There was a beat, and Kira’s voice went sly. _Should I let Doc know?_

 _If you tell him_ anything, _I’ll kick your ass,_ she growled. _He already walked in on us._

A sense of snickering accompanied the other Jedi’s reply. _Fine, fine. Was it worth it, at least?_

It took her a long moment before she was able to reply, a moment that ended with Scourge hitting the control pad to close her door and dropping her gently on the bed. _Maybe. I’ll let you know for sure when I wake up properly._

_Okay. Sleep well, boss._

“Do I need to worry about getting attacked when I leave here?” 

Blinking, Khrysa came back to herself to see that Scourge had already dug into one of the drawers where her pajamas lived, a pair of pants draped over one arm as he searched for a top. 

“Other drawer,” she said, glancing down at her nearly split-in-two shirt before sighing and tearing it the rest of the way. There was no way she could salvage it, and she shrugged it off, tossing it into a corner. She could throw it in the recycler later. The pants might be repairable, despite the claw marks in one leg, and she stumbled to her feet, kicking them off; Scourge had apparently seen all of her even before this, there was no point in being shy now. Even so, her cheeks heated at the appreciative look in his eyes as he turned around. “And no, you should be fine.”

“Very well, Jedi,” he replied; the pajamas he held out to her were ones she’d gotten on Coruscant, printed with cartoony mouse droids wearing hats, and she tugged them on while he pulled the covers on her bed down. 

Suddenly feeling tongue-tied--he still hadn’t leered at her, was still treating her like he had the last few days--she simply crawled under the blankets and grabbed a spare pillow to curl around; she might have been years away from childhood, but still wanted the comfort of something soft in her arms, and the pillow would work fine until she passed out. Khrysa did twitch at extra weight settling over her, raising her head to look over her shoulder; Scourge had dropped his cape over her and was going to his knees in the corner next to the door. The force shivered, soundless sparks joining to create a thin shield over the entryway as she watched, puzzled. “Why--?”

“To keep watch,” he interrupted, eyes closing. “It helped you before. Go to sleep, little Jedi.”

Blinking at the way something relaxed in her chest, she snuck a hand out of her cocoon, pulling the heavy, silky fabric higher. Exhaustion was abruptly dragging at her, the tension that she had noticed but ignored beginning to drain from her muscles.

“Thank you,” she muttered, eyelids drooping. 

She was just on the edge of sleep when she heard him answer in a soft voice. “Anytime, Khrysa.”

  
  
  


_~fin_


End file.
